


Flower of Love

by FleetSparrow



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gift Fic, M/M, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 18:53:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetSparrow/pseuds/FleetSparrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Scarecrow hits Nightwing with a fear toxin mixed with something else, Bruce searches for an antidote.  But maybe the cure is somewhere a bit closer to home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flower of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Second prompt for the Batfam Christmas Exchange.
> 
> Prompt was "Dick is poisoned and Bruce has to race against the clock to find the antidote."

The warehouse was silent as they approached it, swiftly moving from shadow to shadow. Batman had finally tracked down the origin of a new designer drug that had been percolating through the Gotham jet set and wannabes for the past three weeks. Oracle had led them to a fruit packing plant, of all places, but that was as far as any information led. “Took a while to find, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a trap,” she had said, sending over what she had. “Bring backup.”

So he had, in the form of his first partner, Nightwing.

“You’ll take the high road, and I’ll take the low road?”

Batman looked over at the young man and nodded once. “Stay alert,” was all he said before vaulting up onto the warehouse roof. He watched as Nightwing crept through the shadows up to a window, easing it open, and slipping inside. Batman made his way to the skylight, dropping silently onto a steel rafter. There was a light in a partitioned half of the warehouse, opposite where the two of them had entered. Quickly they moved, Batman already readying a batarang.

It looked like a greenhouse, but also a laboratory, like something out of a weird horror film. Plants grew in beakers and dripped into flasks of strange liquid. The four men below all wore gas masks, prompting Batman to put on his own rebreather. He was about to signal to Nightwing to get his out when another figure entered the lab. Scarecrow.

“The new batch is almost ready, boss,” said one of the workers, packing vials into a box. “We should be able to ship by midnight.”

“Get it out before. We don’t need any Bat trouble tonight. The longer we wait, the higher the risks–.”

“Did someone say they needed some Bat trouble?” Nightwing came leaping into the lab, taking out two assistants with one birdarang. “Because I’m all about helping people in need.”

Batman sighed and swooped down from his perch. As serious as their work was, he had always enjoyed hearing Nightwing’s banter on the field. He caught the packing worker as he landed, bringing him down hard. They had to be careful of the brewing drugs; he had seen how deadly they were in their final form.

They had Scarecrow trapped between them, his only exits blocked. He skittered to a table, trying to keep both of them in sight.

“This experiment is over, Scarecrow. We’re shutting you down.”

Scarecrow glanced between them seeming strangely calm about everything. “You’ve stopped the lab, but not the shipments. It will take weeks before they run out. Should provide several more caseloads of data.”

“Where are they headed?” Nightwing took a step forward. “Two ways, Scarecrow, you know the drill.”

A glimmer of a smirk was almost visible under the burlap mask. “Don’t I.”

With a queer grasshopper leap, he flung himself at Nightwing, plunging a hidden syringe into what little of Nightwing’s neck was exposed. Nightwing recoiled, bringing up an eskrima stick to the side of Scarecrow’s face with a crack. He staggered back, plucking the broken needle from his neck. “Batman. Jugular.”

Batman lunched forward, landing a hard punch to the already bruised cheekbone. _A doctor’s precision_ , part of his mind noted dryly, already thinking of a way to help his partner even as he took Scarecrow down. He didn’t stop until the other man was unconscious, no longer an immediate threat to them. He turned to Nightwing. “Are you–?”

Off in the distance came the wail of sirens, clearly on their way to the warehouses. “Oracle got them,” Nightwing says, holding his neck. “Told her we needed to get out fast and didn’t have time.”

Batman nodded and reached out a hand. “We’ll get you home.” Quickly grabbing a few vials for analysis, he led Nightwing out of the warehouse where the Batmobile was already waiting. “Tell me if you start to feel any reaction.”

“I think I’m feeling one already.”

He glanced at Nightwing as they hopped in the car, watching a bright flush creep up the young man’s face. He flicked the air on as cold as he could, turning the vents to face Nightwing. “You’ll be all right. I’ll get you home.”

 ------------------------

The sick feeling of the fever had mostly subsided by the time they reached the Cave, but the heat of it had not. Dick had stripped out of half of his costume in the Batmobile and as soon as the top opened, pulled off the rest of as quick as he could, half-falling our of the car into the damp coolness of the Cave. Everything was bright and hot and sharp as nettles against his skin, in his head. He staggered along the walkway, his natural grace lost in the burning inside him. What he wouldn’t give for an attack from Mr. Freeze right about now.

Two strong hands grabbed his shoulders and hoisted him up– Bruce, of course, probably taking him to bed, tucking him in bed where a good little Robin should be– steering him towards the medical area of the Cave. As he fell back against the table, he could see Bruce– Batman, cowl’s up, no down, BatBruce– talking to Alfred, but the words were inaudible under the rushing in his head. Only every now and then could he catch snippets of words, “–crow... –ants... poison... fine auntie goat,” nothing that made sense to him. With a groan, Dick shut his eyes and ground his head into the table.

“Make it stooop.”

The men talking over him quieted immediately and Bruce leaned down. “You’re all right, boy. Look at me.” A gauntleted hand touched his cheek. Bruce frowned as if he could feel the heat through his glove. “Focus on me, Dick. Just focus on me.”

That seemed like an odd thing to say, since Bruce’s face was the only thing Dick could really see at his angle, but it started to make sense when he felt someone strapping his legs to the table.

“It’s all right, Dick. Just look at me.”

The heat rushed through him in waves, burning the image of Bruce’s face into his mind, surrounded by a red haze. There was Bruce and he was there and he was always going to be there, he had to or Dick wouldn’t know what to do with himself, and Bruce was saying something again but the blood in his head wouldn’t quiet down enough to let him hear and that was upsetting.

“A sedative.”

Ooh, he heard that. Dick whined and struggled against the restraints. He didn’t want to be sedated, he just wanted the stupid heat to go away, but it just would– He didn’t feel the slight pinch until Alfred was removing the syringe again and somehow the slow reaction time made Dick feel more betrayed than anything. Fingers combed through his hair and he realized Bruce had taken off a gauntlet some time during all that.

“You’re going to be all right, Dick. I’ll get the antidote.”

As loath as he was to admit it, the sedative had made the rushing a little softer, so he nodded in response. Bruce kept speaking to him, his voice a low rumble so close to Dick’s ear that it became a bit hard to focus on the actual words. Something about a blood test and analyzing compounds and, oh, there was Alfred with a full vial of blood, that’s what Bruce meant, well then.

Dick scrunched his eyes shut, screwing up his face as a sudden wave of drowsiness took over. He wanted to watch what Bruce would do, was doing, but all he could focus on was how terribly exhausted he was. The hand petting his hair was soothing and the gentle timbre of Bruce’s voice was lulling him to sleep faster than he cared to admit. He forced himself to open his eyes to look at Bruce one more time. The fever-image of Bruce’s face was so clear, he finally stopped struggling to open them and relaxed into the bed, certain that Bruce was smiling right back at him.

 -----------------------

Bruce flew down the road into Gotham, pushing the Batmobile faster and faster. He had left Alfred in the Cave working on finding the exact composition of the chemical Dick was doused with, but he had a fairly good idea of where to start. Crane’s lab had been filled with plants and since Dick hadn’t ended up writhing in fear immediately, it was a pretty good bet that his toxin had been mixed with something from Poison Ivy. Whenever Ivy was involved, things were always unpredictable.

He pulled up to the edge of Robinson Park, deciding to risk leaving the car so close to Ivy’s territory for a quick getaway, and ran inside, past the relatively safe public areas toward the maze of leaves that marked Ivy’s domain. Batarang in hand, he sliced through the vines and branches that stretched out at him; he was looking for a confrontation, he had no need for stealth.

An angry scream rose up from the plants to his left, as thick vines wrapped around him, hauling him up in the air. From her throne of branches, Ivy looked like an angry faerie queen, ready to bring down her wrath on those that attack her.

“Barging into my home, destroying my babies, and I’ve done _nothing_ to provoke you!”

The vines around Batman’s torso tightened. “You’re working with Crane. Poisoning the city. Your plants, your antidote.” The plants slackened just a bit, enough to let him breathe.

“I’ve done nothing, Batman,” she said, her plants bringing her down to his eye level. “If someone is using my plants without my knowing, they will pay.”

He growled. “I don’t have time for this, Ivy. What did you use and where is the antidote?”

_< <HQ to Batman. Traces of a plant not found on Earth. Still searching for origin.>>_

Ivy chuckled, shrugging calmly. “I don’t know why you never believe me. I’m as innocent as a lamb.”

_< <He’s awake.>>_

Bruce swallowed hard against the vine at his neck. The sedative should have knocked Dick out for much longer. It must have had something to do with the poison.

Ivy came forward, ghosting her fingers along his jaw. “I don’t have anything to help, darling, but why don’t you let Mama Ivy help you stop worrying.”

He turned his head away from her fingers. “Have you been dealing with alien plants?”

The question seemed to take her by surprise. “Alien? No, but I know of some. What an odd question.” She leaned forward again. “What’s your interest? If people are being attacked, it should be no bother for you. Unless...” She smiled. “It’s one of your birds, isn’t it?”

_< <It appears to be Tamaranean in origin. M’loarth plant.>>_

“The M’loarth. What do you know of it?”

“Nothing.” She grinned. “Maybe you should describe it for me.”

Dick’s voice suddenly shot through the comm, strained and oddly pitched. _< <B! I need you here. Please– Please tell me you’re all right!>>_

Bruce’s eyes widened behind the cowl, but he said nothing. If Dick had managed to reach his comm, that meant he had escaped the restraints. He didn’t have much time. With as much strength as he could muster, he pulled his arms together, pulling up a display of the M’loarth plant from his gauntlet computer. “That,” he said through gritted teeth. “Have you seen this plant?”

_< <B, please! Please answer! Oh god, please be there.>>_

Ivy made a small noise of feigned wonder, grinning as she looked down at the projection, clearly enjoying herself. “Oh, that thing? Yes, I know it. Oh, you know, now that you mention it, I think I recall some bulbs going missing.” She laughed as Batman growled, and pulled him closer, taking a firm grip on his chin. “Your little bird should be enjoying himself with just the plant, but knowing Crane, you’ve got a lot more to deal with. Why don’t you try treating the symptoms first?”

_< <Bruce, please! You’ve got to– You can’t be–>>_

“Give me the antidote.”

She smirked. “I don’t have one. Just let him ride out the M’loarth with a little... physical assistance. Worry about Scarecrow’s doing first.”

She let him go and the throne of branches quickly pulled her back, away into the safety of her own forest. A moment later, the vines around Batman slackened and dropped him to the ground. Dick was still calling out to him through the comm, drowning out what sounded like Alfred trying to calm him down. Batman growled and tapped his comm, his voice cutting through the clamor on the other end.

_< <Give him A-360. Reattach restraints. On my way.>>_

He followed the suspiciously clear path back through the park to the Batmobile, mulling over what Ivy had said. From the tone of Dick’s voice, the fear toxin had started to kick in. If they could get that under control, then he could deal with the second problem after. He set the Batmobile to autopilot and began pulling up any information he could on the M’loarth. Dick had always been good about updating the Titans files with information from Starfire; hopefully there would be enough about Tamaranean plants to give him an idea of how to combat whatever reaction happened in humans.

As the Batmobile zoomed down the road back home, Bruce pulled down his cowl and let out an angry sigh. The channel to the Cave had been left open and every now and then a pained whimper would come through. Whatever it took to cure Dick, he would do it.

\----------------------- 

When he arrived back at the Cave, Dick was curled up in a ball on the medical table, in the final throes of fear toxin. Alfred filled him in while he removed his gloves and made his way to the bundle of blanket that was Nightwing. As soon as he got within arm’s reach of the table, Dick unwrapped from the blanket and threw himself at Bruce.

“I thought you were dead! I woke up and you weren’t here and you wouldn’t answer your comm and I thought–” Dick shook his head, burying his face in Bruce’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I should’ve been better at fighting it off. That was stupid.”

Bruce settled onto the table next to Dick, petting his hair. “Scarecrow’s toxin is always unpredictable. You’re fine.” He glanced up at Alfred and the older man gave a short bow and left them alone. Dick’s fingers dug into the cape and Bruce turned his attention back to him. “Look at me, Dick. You’re all right.”

Dick looked up– it was easy to follow orders when he couldn’t think otherwise– and pulled away just enough to see Bruce clearly. Bruce gave him a small smile and touched his face in what should have been a soothing gesture. Instead, Dick flushed, a shiver of pleasure running through him down to his belly. “B-Bruce...”

Bruce frowned, moving his wrist to Dick’s forehead to check for a fever. “Tell me what’s happening, Dick. What are you feeling?”

“I’m...” He swallowed hard and shut his eyes, letting his head drop against Bruce’s shoulder again. His head was pounding, blood rushing louder than before, but this time the heat it brought with it was good in a desperate sort of way. He was radiating heat and so was Bruce, but Dick didn’t want to move away from it. Instead, he shifted closer, turning to get as much contact with Bruce as he could. “I need....” He leaned forward and caught Bruce’s mouth in a kiss, pressing himself against him.

Bruce froze, not moving at all for two seconds while his brain tried to kick back into gear. Dick was starting to writhe against him like he was in heat. His hands closed around Dick’s waist and pushed him back, giving Bruce space to breathe. “Dick. I need you to focus.”

“I am,” Dick said, staring back him with wide eyes. His hands kneaded Bruce’s shoulders.

“No, Dick. Focus on what I’m saying. You inhaled a plant called the M’loarth. It’s Tamaranean. What does it do in humans?”

Dick blinked. “I– What?”

“What are the effects of the M’loarth on humans?”

Dick’s movements slowed as he pushed back the fog in his brain. He knew that plant from when he’d dated Kori. “The... the M’loarth is a Tamaranean plant with aphrodisiac properties. When the pollen is ingested or inhaled by humans, it causes a heightened state of arousal that lasts until orgasm or possibly longer, depending on the amount taken.”

Bruce patted his side. “Good boy. Keep focusing on information. What are the symptoms?”

Dick whined and squirmed in Bruce’s hold. “Rise in blood pressure, arousal, rapid heartbeat, shortness of breath, the need for contact.” He twisted out of Bruce’s grip and wrapped himself around him, pulling them down onto the table. “Injected with a concentrate,” he continued, bucking up against Bruce’s hips, “the toxin must have slowed down the pollen. It might have kicked in with the fear without the antidote. Now it’s just– _nnh_ – riding it out.”

Bruce braced himself on one arm, pushing himself up so he could see Dick’s face. “Dick–”

“Please, Bruce, I–” He groaned. “It _hurts_.”

Bruce looked at him for a moment, then laid back down, rolling them onto their sides. Dick immediately wrapped a leg around Bruce and tucked his head into his shoulder, rutting against him. He was whispering something Bruce couldn’t quite make out, but he rubbed Dick’s back, letting the younger man moved where he pleased. Slow inhale through the nose, exhale through the mouth, keep calm and stay unaroused from the stimulation. Dick kissed the side of his neck and Bruce’s hands clenched. He didn’t want to admit how good it felt, or how many times he’d fantasized about a similar situation after Dick had moved out– _once that pesky “ward” business was out of the way_ , his mind taunted. He tucked his nose into the dark curls atop Dick’s head, hoping the young man wouldn’t notice anything unusual in his current state. That was when the whispering became clearer.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Over and over, Dick’s lips caressed the words into his neck, but not in English, not the tongue he used most frequently. It was Romanes, the language Dick fell back to when he wanted his words to stay secret, the language he’d taught Bruce when he came to the Manor and became his partner, that Bruce had insisted on trying to learn to make sure Dick never lost it. He’d only heard Dick say this phrase a few times: to Barbara at night in her apartment before she had destroyed his Batcams (earning him an earful about paranoia and privacy), to Kori on a joint mission with the League, whispered before heading into battle. It was a serious phrase, not something to be thrown around lightly. Yet, here he was, whispering it to Bruce over and over as if his life depended on it.

“Dick?”

Dick stilled, letting out a shuddering breath, and repeated what he’d said, louder. Bruce shifted and pressed a small kiss to Dick’s forehead. <<I love you, too.>>

Dick’s breath hitched at Bruce’s words, but he smiled and leaned up to meet his mouth. Bruce’s hand slipped between them, pushing down the pants of their suits. Dick’s hand joined his, brushing against him as they stroked each other to climax. As they lay there panting, Dick pressed his forehead to Bruce’s, nuzzling him.

“I...”

Bruce shook his head, kissing him quickly. “Don’t. We’ll... figure it out later.”

Dick smiled. “I just wanted to say I mean it. It wasn’t just the toxin.”

Bruce nodded, pressing his cheek to Dick’s. “I know. I mean it, too.”

Slowly, they sat up, rearranging themselves to look presentable once again. Alfred appeared a moment later, a suspiciously well-timed entrance if ever there was one, bringing over a tray of instruments to test if the toxin was finally out of Dick’s system.

“Well, everything seems to be in order,” he said, putting everything away. “How do you feel, Master Dick?”

“Much better.” He glanced at Bruce with a small smile. “Feel like myself again.”

“Excellent.” Alfred smiled at the two of them. “Well, when you feel up to going up stairs, there will be hot tea and soup waiting for you two.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” Bruce said, resting a hand surreptitiously against the small of Dick’s back.

Alfred gave a short bow and turned away. “I only ask that you clean up before eating. Thoroughly.”

Dick’s ears flushed red and even Bruce looked away sheepishly. “Yes, Alfred. We will.”

As soon as the sound of the butler’s steps faded into the dark, Dick fell against Bruce, laughing in embarrassment. “Well, then. I guess we should go get cleaned up.”

Bruce patted Dick’s back, a corner of his mouth turned up in a small smile. “I guess we should. And we’ll–?”

“Talk about it over food,” Dick said, sitting up. “I’m starving.”

Bruce wrapped his arms around Dick and lifted him off the table. “Then let’s get cleaned up.” He kissed Dick warmly and carried him off to the showers.


End file.
